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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22390486">Lollipops and crisps</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalalaikaPattycake/pseuds/BalalaikaPattycake'>BalalaikaPattycake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, M/M, and eat good food, and soft and warm, i love them they deserve to be happy, pure fluff!!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:53:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,402</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22390486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalalaikaPattycake/pseuds/BalalaikaPattycake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Theo woke up to a faint rustling sound. Leaves? his dream-hazed brain thought for a second. That wouldn't make any sense, he's definitely indoors, laying in bed.</p><p>Book pages, he realised. His eyes were closed but he could feel the warmth of the morning sun on his back and something warm just at the tip of his fingers. He opened his eyes slowly and realised it was person he was reaching out to. Boris. He looked blurry without his glasses but he could make out his silhouette sitting up against the headboard of their bed. He was reading something, a small book. </p><p> </p><p>Boris and Theo have a nice Sunday morning together</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lollipops and crisps</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had so so much fun writing this, I hope you'll enjoy it too! :)</p><p>Title is from Radiohead True Love Waits</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Theo woke up to a faint rustling sound. <em>Leaves?</em> his dream-hazed brain thought for a second. That wouldn't make any sense, he's definitely indoors, laying in bed.</p><p><em> Book pages</em>, he realised. His eyes were closed but he could feel the warmth of the morning sun on his back and something warm just at the tip of his fingers. He opened his eyes slowly and realised it was person he was reaching out to. Boris. He looked blurry without his glasses but he could make out his silhouette sitting up against the headboard of their bed. He was reading something, a small book.</p><p> </p><p>"There you are," Boris had noticed Theo was awake and he smiled softly down at him.</p><p>Theo nudged closer so his nose was touching Boris' hip bone and exhaled slowly.</p><p>"What's the time?" he asked, his voice raspy with sleep.</p><p>"A little past nine."</p><p>"How long have you been awake?"</p><p>"Just a few hours, " Boris answered.</p><p>Theo looked up. His Russian was rusty but he could still make out the Cyrillic letters on the book cover.</p><p>
  <em>Евгений Онегин</em>
</p><p>He turned to lie on his back, "Read to me."</p><p>"You'll fall asleep then," Boris laughed softly, "you always do."</p><p>"I won't."</p><p>Boris moved down on the bed so his head was level with Theo's. He propped himself up on his elbow and stretched his other hand holding the book across Theo's waist.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>На солнце иней в день морозный, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>И сани, и зарёю поздной </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Сиянье розовых снегов, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>И мглу крещенских вечеров. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Theo closed his eyes and turned his head a little so his nose was touching Boris' arm. It was warm. Everything about Boris was warm. His voice was raspy but gentle and Theo could feel himself falling under its spell and travelling with it somewhere far. To cold Russian winters with thousands of stars blazing in the crisp night. He couldn't understand all of the words but he loved the small rhythm Boris kept when reading Pushkin's verses. Like gentle waves crashing the shore. It felt almost too good to be lying next to Boris like this, bask in his warmth, their legs tangled together, their breaths slowly moving in the same rhythm, quietly fading into the abyss, just the two of them…</p><p> </p><p>"You're falling to sleep! I can see!" Boris exclaimed smiling at Theo.</p><p>"I'm not," Theo smiled, "I'm just resting my eyes."</p><p>"No, you read now."</p><p>Theo sighed but opened his eyes and took the book from Boris.</p><p>"But correct my pronunciation, I want to know."</p><p>Boris leaned over Theo to grab his glasses for him from the nightstand before snuggling down to lay next to him, keeping his arm over Theo's waist. He nestled his head into the crook between Theo's neck and shoulder and pressed a soft kiss on his collarbone.</p><p>Theo started reading. Slowly at first, it took some time for his brain to switch from Latin alphabet to Cyrillic. Every once in awhile Boris quietly corrected his pronunciation or helped to read out a particularly long word.</p><p>After a few pages Theo could feel his head growing thicker. He really was out of touch with his Russian, he should ask Boris to help him fix that. Maybe a trip to Moscow as Boris had suggested before the Amsterdam madness.</p><p>"I'm tired," he said resting the book on his chest and turning his head so he could kiss Boris on the forehead, "sleepy time."</p><p>"Nuh-uh, if you don't want to read anymore then let's have breakfast," Boris said pushing himself up, "I want eggs and toasts."</p><p>"Hmm, make it yourself then. Wake me up when the coffee is ready."</p><p>"Noo, I want you to make it," Boris had gotten up to a sitting position and was gently pulling Theo's shoulder, "come on, Potter, rise and shine."</p><p>When Theo was still not relenting, Boris poked him painfully in the ribs which earned him a distant growl from Theo, "Fuck off." But Theo still wouldn't budge, instead he just buried his face in the pillow.</p><p>Then Boris decided to change tactics and leaned down to cover Theo with soft kisses, one for the neck, one for the temple, one for the cheek, and one just at the corner of his mouth peeking out from the pillow and twitching in suppressed giggles, "Theo, <em>please</em>."</p><p>That worked.</p><p>"Fine," Theo sighed as he got up from the bed. Even as kids, he had always found it hard to deny Boris anything when he said Theo like that. Although he would never admit it.</p><p>"Yay!" Boris scrambled up from the bed and ran to the kitchen with a small jogging motion.</p><p>Theo pulled a sweater from the heap of clothes on the desk chair (his? Boris's? he'd really lost track by then) before making his way to the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>When he got to the kitchen, Boris was standing by the counter making coffee. Theo wrapped his arms around him from behind and hugged him close, softly pressing his lips to Boris' neck.</p><p>"Eggs. And. Toasts. Potter," Boris stayed firm.</p><p>"Fine," Theo sighed with a small smile tugging his lips.</p><p>As Theo was cooking, Boris sat up on the counter kicking the cabinet with his heels and sipping his coffee.</p><p>"Nice day today, Potter, what do you want to do?"</p><p>Theo looked out the window. It had rained the day before, but the morning was bright and promising, with only a few puffy white clouds slowly making their way down the azure sky. It was a Sunday. Although Boris' schedule was hectic to say the least, unexpected trips to Europe and Asia, (convincing Theo to come with him which Theo not-so-reluctantly accepted), late nights, sleeping in, then getting up at four in the morning for a 'business deal', he tried to keep weekends as free as possible so they could spend them together. They would eat out, go to the movies, sometimes to a museum or an art gallery, or just to the shop. Theo would help Hobie with the furniture while Boris read with Popchik on his lap, made them tea or kept up a dialogue with Hobie (that had a tendency of turning into a monologue when Hobie was dealing with a particularly challenging restoration) about climate change, neo-colonialism, and the inherent flaws of the capitalist world order.</p><p>When it was nice outside, they would walk around the city to all the places Theo had imagined he'd take Boris during the years they'd spent apart. Though Boris had sometimes been to the place already, he was still happy to pretend he hadn't just to see Theo's excitement growing as they approached their destination. And anyways, the places always looked different when he went there with Theo, everything was brighter, everyone they passed seemed to smile at them, and he could feel the warmth of the sun even when the sky was covered in dull, gray clouds. Occasionally, they would rent a car to drive out of town for a day, sometimes even stayed the night, although Theo preferred their small apartment to anything else.</p><p>"I'm not sure," Theo answered thoughtfully as he loaded the eggs and toasts on a plate and moved to the kitchen table, Boris following with their coffees.</p><p>As they were eating, Boris enthusiastically discussing the movie they'd watched last night between bites of food, Theo was falling back to a particular memory from his childhood. A Sunday morning with his mother, quite similar to this one with the mellow morning light coming in through the window and softening all the edges, the smell of coffee and bread, and a particular sense of warmth.</p><p>He was around eight or nine, his mom had made French toast for breakfast and they were discussing their plans for the day. Quietly and without hurry, none of the usual tension constantly on the background since his dad was out of town. He remembered her green coffee cup and her fond smile <em>How about the planetarium, we haven't been in a while. What do you say, Puppy?</em> Theo couldn't remember what he'd answered and if they actually went to the planetarium that day, he just remembered reveling in the all-encompassing warmth of her presence.</p><p>Boris gently kicked Theo's foot under the table, "Whatcha thinking?" he asked slightly tilting his head.</p><p>"Nothing," Theo smiled, "let's go to the planetarium."</p><p>Boris raised his eyebrows but smiled back, "okay, nerd."</p><p>Theo kicked him back, "Fuck you."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The book is Pushkin's Eugene Onegin, the verse and its translation is from <a href="http://www.pushkins-poems.com/Yev501.htm">here</a></p><p>Find me on <a href="https://tutiplutinino.tumblr.com/">tumblr!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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